Laughter Lines
by MechaTitan
Summary: In which Jean Kirschtein drunkenly stumbles into the wrong apartment and Marco Bodt helps a brotha out. Mainly Jeanmarco
1. The Drunkscapades

**A/N: **

aaaayyy  
This is based off a tumblr text post here  
Soo there's kind of a plan for a multi-chaptered fic…but I don't know if its gonna end up that way because I suck at multi-chaptered things. I might just keep it as a one-shot. We'll see how it goes and if it doesn't go well, I'll probably delete this. Which is why I left it kinda open at the end…

Also the teen rating is for Jean's foul mouth. There will be no smut because yo gurl is a huge asexual weenie  
So yeah here is my bad story with an even worse title.

* * *

Jean barely remembered how it all happened at this point, but Marco seemed to remember it quite clearly. The little freckled shit wouldn't let him fucking forget it

The story of how he met Marco Bodt was one he'd never be able to live down, that's for sure.

"MmmmM, it's two am ahrready?" Jean slurred, stumbled down the cracked sidewalk. The light of his phone felt like it was burning his eyes from the sockets, but he persevered on. "I'ma call Reinerrr…"

He cackled to himself as a picture of the blonde man pursing his lips in attempt to make a duck face showed up on the screen. He really just looked constipated.

Jean accidentally smashed the phone against his ear, the cartilage of his ear sting. "Oww…"

"Jean?" Reiner said into his ear. "You know it's two am, man?"

"I just found out, dude how weird is that!"

"Jean, you're drunk aren't you?" He could feel the judgement in Reiner's voice.

"Connie and Sash can partaaay so hard. Don judge meee." It didn't occur to his drunk mind that Reiner had woken him up for 2 am calls before too and therefore had no room to talk. "Can I hang at your place? Please, can I?"

A loud, frustrated sigh startled Jean, making him jump. He glanced around the street, making sure no one had seen. The moonlight illuminated the empty, judgement-free street of down town Trost.

"FINE." Reiner concluded. "Just be quiet coming in."

"Okay maaan." Jean giggled. "I'ma make you cookies to make up for thissss."

"Please don't, your cooking could be considered cruel and unusual punishment, and I don't want you to go to jail."

"Haha, shut the fuck up." Reiner was lucky he was a happy drunk.

"See ya soon, brotato chip."

Jean was too drunk to even call him out on that heinous use of language, so he just hung up.

Time to stumble a couple blocks to Reiner's house. He barely remembered the walk, but he might've almost been hit by a rouge taxi at least once. It was totally the drivers fault.

About ten minutes later, Jean approached Reiner's apartment building, miraculously unscathed.

"Come in quietly…" He reminded himself of what his blonde friend had said. "He won' mind me usin' the window…" Jean eyed the alley way where he knew a rusty old fire escape scaled the building. "Why the fuck not."

Five minutes later, Jean was practically crawling up the fire escape, trying not to look down. Against his better judgement, he spared a glance into the damp, dark alley where he'd once stood. His vision blurred and he felt woozy.

'I'm such a fucking idiot.' He thought, tired hands scraping against cold metal. Jean spotted the right apartment window, which at this point looked like the fucking promised land.

He quickly scrambled up the last flight of stairs and leaned up against the building. Peering into the window, he spotted an empty living room. Jean grinned, fear long gone with the safety of Reiner's apartment so close.

The window opened easily, far more easily than Jean would have expected it to. Doesn't Reiner use a fucking lock, this wasn't exactly the best neighborhood. He slid through the small rectangle left for him, going in arms first. Surprisingly graceful, he landed on his hands and rolled forward, making sure his feet didn't catch the window as they passed through. He plopped down on the floor, his landing somewhat sloppy.

Damn. He should join the fucking Drunk Olympics. That should definitely be a thing, where drunk people compete to see who can do sober things the best. Jean would be gold medal winner all the fucking time.

He chuckled to himself, the noise turning into a quiet scream of terror as something snuffled his face.

_QUIET. REINER SAID TO BE QUIET._

Jean backed up rather quickly, scaring away whatever was investigating him. A large tuxedo cat perched on the coffee table, large green eyes locked onto his every move. A second calico cat joined him, eyeing Jean warily.

Reiner had cats? Since when?

He shrugged and got up, figuring they were probably Bertl's or something. Stumbling over to the couch, he flopped himself down. His eyes fell like lead and he was neigh on sleep within seconds.

"Hey Reiner, thanks for letting me stay." He called lazily, already almost asleep. Darkness fell upon him quickly, only waking up once at a light shuffling across the room. And then he was out completely.

Darkness. Pain. The need to pee really fucking bad.

Those were the first things Jean noticed as he slowly surfaced to consciousness. The next was the low hum of a song that was slightly familiar. He heard the clank and sizzle of someone making food in the nearby kitchen.

Eye creaking open, he next noticed that there was a blanket on him…One that wasn't there last night. He grumbled, hands finding the sides of his head and clutching uselessly at his temples.

"Reiner, I'm so hungover." Jean almost whispered. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle more than that.

The sound of liquid being poured caught his attention. "Waterrrr…" He groaned, trying to lick his chapped lips back into life. "Reiner."

"Not Reiner, but I got you something to drink." A voice answered his calls. The tone sounded slightly amused.

Jean's eyes immediately shot open. That…was not Reiner. Who the fuck was it? Whose apartment was he in? Jean realized he probably should've known it wasn't Reiner's because of the cats. Bertholdt doesn't even like cats, he's a dog person.

What. The. Fuck?

He sat upright, twisting around to see a tan guy setting down a tray on the coffee table in front of him. That was all he could see before a shooting pain thundered through his brain, leaving him a groaning heap on the couch.

"Geez, don't hurt yourself." The guy chuckled lightly. "I made you eggs and bacon. But I'd suggest drinking all this water first. I looked online and to see what would help best for a hangover."

"I obviously drunkly stumbled into the apartment of fucking Jesus." Jean mumbled, not even believing his ears. This guy was a complete stranger, and he was being this nice.

A soft giggle. Jean grinned at the sound. Picking himself up slowly this time, Jean surveyed the scene in front of him. On the tray was eggs and bacon with a side of buttered toast. Next to it stood two full glasses; one water and the other of orange juice.

"Liquids are good for a hangover. So I can get more, if you want."

The sudden statement made his eyes shoot up to the guy sitting in the ratty old arm chair across from him. The first thing he noticed was the freckles. Freckles everywhere. They dotted his tan skin, concentrated in some areas and petering out in others. They adorned him like the dots on a pointillism masterpiece. Jean reckoned this piece of art would be called, 'Fucking Stud Muffin'.

Large brown eyes stared at him in concern. "Is this not okay?"

"NO, it's fine…" He almost yelled, embarrassed that he'd been caught staring. "I just need to pee."

The guy pointed to a door across from the kitchen, and Jean went as fast as he could manage without passing out. He quickly relieved himself and splashed water on his face for an extra wake up. The sooner he got something in his system, the better.

Jean entered the living room, noticing the guy was in the same place. A mug of coffee that wasn't there before rested in his hands. He must've taken longer than he thought.

Jean plopped down on the couch, quickly picking up the glass and chugging the water. This proved to be a bad idea, (like many of his ideas are) because tipping back his head hurt like hell. He winced and groaned, deciding to take it easy.

Freckles just watched him quietly, a conflicted uncertain look plastered on his face. "So…I'm Marco." He offered, looking way more interested in Jean than was to be expected.

"I'm Jean." He nodded, feeling a little bit awkward that he had trespassed on this guys property and was now eating his food. "Uh, thanks for this, Marco. I was fully under the impression that I was in Reiner's apartment when I passed out last night."

"Yeah, I figured. You were talking to someone with that name, and I eventually figured you were just a little lost. He lives in the apartment next door." Marco jerked a finger over his shoulder.

"Maybe I wouldn't be so good in the Drunk Olympics after all…"Jean muttered to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing!" He carefully downed the rest of the water. "Anyway, why exactly did you decide to tuck me in and feed me breakfast? I literally snuck in through your window and probably gave your cats a heart attack."

As if summoned by mention, the fat tuxedo cat jumped onto the table and sniffed Jean's food.

"Bean, no! Off!" Marco shooed the cat away. The miffed cat joined the calico one on the floor.

_Bean? _He raised an eyebrow.

"Eh, I dunno." Marco shrugged, settling back into his seat. "I was pretty sure you were just confused and a little lost and plus I've seen you in the hallway with Reiner before so…Why be an asshole about it?"

Jean stared. Why be an asshole about it? He didn't know, though he was 100% sure he would be an asshole about it if someone did this to him. He shrugged. "You're a better man than I am, I guess."

Marco laughed. "I doubt it, but thanks." He continued to sip the coffee in his hands as Jean started to drink as much orange juice as he could.

He was definitely feeling much better, though a dull ache still pounded his head. "Reiner's gonna laugh his ass off when he finds out about this…" He commented, suddenly thinking of his blonde friend. "Speaking of which, I wonder what he's doing?"

Marco shrugged. "I don't know, but your phone went off a couple times earlier. I didn't want to answer it. It seemed…rude."

Jean sat upright, almost not believing he slept through that. "Man, I was out, wasn't I?"

"Like a light." The freckled guy agreed, smiling like it was a good memory.

"Whelp, hopefully he's not too worried." Taking the phone out of his pocket, he quickly unlocked it. 7 missed calls showed up on the screen. All from Reiner. The last one was 15 minutes ago. "Aw, fuck."

His thumb immediately hit the 'Call Back' button. Bringing the phone to his ear, he gave Marco a sheepish look. "This'll be fun."

It picked up on the second ring. "JEAN KIRCHSTEIN, WHERE ARE YOU? I'VE BEEN WORRIED SICK- "

Jean cringed and moved the phones so that it was a couple inches from his ear until Reiner was done yelling.

When he heard nothing else, Jean brought the phone closer. "Are you done Mama Reiner?"

"DUDE!"

"Okay, okay, just stop yelling. You're hurting my head." Jean complained. "I'm fine, if you wanna make sure of that you can find me next door."

"Next door?"

"Yeah next door, like door next to yours. To the left."

"Well…What're you doing there?" Reiner sounded genuinely confused. "Doesn't Marco live there?"

"Yeah, I'm in his apartment. I went in the wrong window last night." Laughter immediately erupted in his ear, causing him to distance the phone again.

Jean rolled his eyes. "Shut the fuck up man. I'm mad at you!" He had to force his voice to actually source angry and it was pretty believable. He saw Marco's eyebrows shoot up. He just smirked.

"What? Angry at me? I didn't do anything!" Reiner sputtered, sounding seriously offended.

"Exactly." Jean stated simply. "You didn't tell me you had such an awesome neighbor, seriously how come you didn't tell me about him?!"

Surprised and frustrated noises met his ear.

Then, "I'M HANGING UP."

The phone call ended and Jean found himself smiling. "What an idiot." he remarked, setting his phone on the table.

Jean's eyes shot up, meeting Marco's. The guy was a blushing mess with his hands covering most of his face. Wow this guy was like a blushing school girl after one compliment? He felt a blush spreading across his own cheeks at the sight.

He laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck, an awkward atmosphere threatening to overcome them. "Listen man, I really appreciate your help."

"It was no problem." Marco said without missing a beat, blush diminishing a bit.

"Pretty sure it was." Jean laughed. "I'll repay you somehow."

"No need, but I won't stop you." The freckled man mimicked his laugh back at him. He had drawn his feet up on the chair, bringing his legs close to his chest. Smiling down at his feet, Marco looked…fucking adorable.

Jean smiled to himself peacefully, glancing down at a very colorful text from Reiner. His eyes caught the small clock in the corner.

"Aw fuck, it's 12 fucking pm, what the hell." He grumbled, brows furrowing. He'd much rather stay here, honestly. Marco's apartment was much better looking than his and it came with a hot guy and food. "Man, I gotta get to work soon."

"Oh!" Marco looked surprised, like he expected Jean to stay the whole fucking day. "Are you feeling well enough?" An expression of concern flitted across his face.

If he was being honest, he still felt like shit, but he was definitely doing a lot better. He could survive a shift at work. "I'll be fine, thanks to you." Immediately after it was out of his mouth, Jean realized how that sounded and the blushes started up full force.

He offered to clean to dishes, but Marco refused flat out, so it wasn't long before he found himself outside the apartment door. He was about to say his thanks once again, when Marco cut him off.

"I'll be seeing you again, right?" He asked, a small smile on his face.

Startled, Jean almost tripped over his own feet. "Uh, yeah! Definitely, yeah! Hell fucking yeah!" Fuck he sounded like an idiot. He tried not to embarrass himself further as he waved and offered the man a quick, "See ya."

The last sound he heard from him was a soft laugh. Jean decided that he liked that sound.


	2. Game of Family Angst

**Aaaand this is where the story has nothing to do with the original text post. I decided to attempt to continue this even though I do indeed suck at multi chapter fics. But I hope you guys like it? Like tell me if you do? Maybe?**

**Also don't mind my weird chapter titles.**

* * *

Telling Marco he had to go to work was kind of a lie. Not really a lie, but it wasn't the truth.

He had an internship. One he hadn't signed up for and didn't pay him. Sounds like quite the deal, right?

But even that was kind of stretching the truth. It was more like…Forcible take your kid to work day…Everyday? If that even makes sense.

A light ache still pounded through his head. Jean rubbed his eyes gently, walking through the sliding doors of the huge office building. Light filtered in through the glass windows that extended several feet upwards to form the main lobby. Business people scurried here and there, ties or jackets flapping behind them. A light buzz of chatter was a constant in the room, as the employees talked about what Jean assumed was boring work shit.

His dad _kinda_ ran a tight ship here at Kirschtein Inc. Jean watched a frantic women hurried by, marveling at how she didn't break her ankles in those huge fucking heels. _God speed _he found himself thinking, knowing just how much she was probably freaking out right now.

"Mr. Kirschtein!" He jumped at the sudden intrusion and turned to face his baby-sitter. Blonde hair and blue eyes glinted in the sunlight as the man approached him, looking tense and tired. "You're late."

Okay, so Erwin Smith was definitely not a baby-sitter. The man was like real-life Captain America, which meant an almost terrifying shoulder to hip ratio and abs of fucking steel. An ex-army general, Erwin had ended up working for Jean's dad after a tragic incident involving a grenade and his superhero like tendencies to put himself in danger to save others. He was in charge of Kirschtein Inc's weapons and command operations and Jean.

What an honor.

He shrugged, giving the man an apathetic look. "What are you gonna do, fire me?"

Erwin snorted, bringing his real arm up to cover his mouth. This is what Jean liked about him- he could be a sarcastic asshole and Erwin would just take it in stride. He suspected that the blonde man could actually see through Jean's 'I don't care, so fuck you all' façade.

"Your father is worried about you, c'mon." Erwin dropped all formalities and motioned to the main elevator.

"I'm sure he's worried about the future of his company." Jean grumbled, falling into step behind him.

The blonde shot a look over his shoulder. "You mean more to him than that, y'know."

Jean grunted in a noncommittal way and resigned himself to looking as grumpy as possible the whole way up. Was the generic elevator music _really_ necessary? Erwin was humming and tapping his foot along to it. _Figures._

"So…How many?" His blonde babysitter almost whispered, trying not to disturb his fellow employees that were crammed into the elevator.

"What the fuck do you mean?" Jean replied in regular volume. His favorite game was to swear loudly and watch as some old codger glares at him for being disrespectful. The look on their faces when they realize who they're glaring at…Jean savored it.

Erwin sighed, waiting until the doors opened and the mad rush could cover up his voice to turn to the boy. "How many beers?"

Jean waited until the doors had closed again and the crowd jostling to get into the elevator had settled. "What gives you the impression that I got shit-faced drunk last night?"

The man sighed, impressive shoulders drooping in exasperation as he eyed the other people. "Don't you have any tact? I don't want everyone thinking Dr. Kirschtein's son is a no good drunk!"

Jean blanched. "Like I give a fuck!"

Everyone in the elevator was looking and listening at this point.

He decided to cut the man some slack. "To answer your original question…A bunch."

Erwin narrowed his eyes. "Your father is going to be mad. And insist that you take things a bit more seriously."

"I totally am!" Jean shifted his stance, crossing his arms like a child instead of the 21 year old he was. "What's wrong with having a bit of fun?!"

He didn't answer immediately, but just leaned closer. "Where did you sleep last night?"

Jean almost choked on his own spit. "S-shut the fuck up!"

A murmur ran through the elevator as people cast their judging eyes upon the boy. It was a relief when the elevator stopped and almost everyone got off. The only person who got on was a familiar face.

"Heeey, two of my three favorite work friends!" Hanji bounced over, bumping right into Jean so that he was in a babysitter sandwich. Bright, obviously intelligent, brown eyes stared at him from under those weird goggle glasses that only huge fucking nerds wore. And that's exactly what Hanji was. They were the head of the science department, meaning they were pretty far up there in command.

"You're just as late as Jean!" Erwin pointed out, looking down at his watch.

"You can't rush genius, Cap'n." Hanji just shrugged. Immediately they turned their attention back to Jean. "Looks like someone got shit-faced drunk last night, am I right boyo?"

"Fuck both of you." He grumbled. How could they tell; he'd covered his bed head with an old beanie and washed his face of any dirt.

"What?!" The scientist looked seriously offended. "If I were you, I would try to look less like you slept on some strangers couch last night."

"Yeah, yeah." was all he had in response. Fucking smart people, always latching onto the smallest details and ruining Jean's half-assed cover up.

The elevator had finally reached the top floor of the tower, opening up to reveal a reception area. Jean didn't know why it was there; no one actually came up here but the usual people.

Erwin led them through the room, past some dispensable woman answering the phone at the desk, and into a room with a, long wooden table in the center. All heads in the room shot up.

"You're all late." His father, a man who looked far older than he really was, grumbled angrily. "Why is it always you three?"

No one dared answer as they made their way to sit down.

At the head of the table sat Jean's dad, who had been talking to a scrawny blacked haired man. Nile Dok was boring, so Jean really didn't pay attention to him at all and vice versa. Beside him sat Dot Pixis, a crackpot old man that he liked to avoid. He could be weirder than Hanji at times. Levi Ackerman was the last person in the room, lounging in his chair like he didn't give a shit. Jean respected that, but the short man was known to have a temper so he stayed away.

David Kirschtein cleared his throat, signaling for a start to the meeting. "I want progress reports. You start first, Dok."

Nile immediately started droning on about security measures and shit. Jean didn't listen much in these meetings. He wasn't sure why he was there and he sure as hell didn't want to be there. It was probably a part of the plan to get him accustomed to running a business or something. A bitter taste filled his mouth at the thought.

It barely registered to Jean that Pixis was now grumble of him going on about finances and basic operations (and sometimes even the snack supplies) almost put him to sleep. He let his mind wander and found himself preoccupied with Marco, of all people. It was pretty weird that he'd just met this guy and he was already idly thinking of him.

Jean figured it was a sign that he needed more friends that wouldn't yell in his ear, eat all his food, or go on and on about sex with their boyfriend. Sure, he loved his friends, but those fuckers were annoying sometimes. He needed some calm people to balance it out.

It was a little harder to zone out when Hanji started squealing about their latest scientific discoveries and experiments, but it wasn't so bad. Hearing about the weird new things from the science department was always kind of interesting. It was thanks to Hanji that Erwin has auto mail that works almost like a real arm, so that was pretty impressive.

Levi went on about weapons development next. Short, simple, to the point. God bless that shortie.

Erwin began his report on weapons trading and testing and Jean allowed himself a little nap. He liked the big guy, but man he didn't know when enough information was enough.

"Next, Jean."

Jean jolted awake, picking up his head from where it rested on his hand. There would no doubt be a large red spot on his cheek.

"Uh, I'm doing ok. That's it." He clapped and got up. "Meeting adjourned, yeah good job team."

"Jean, sit down." His father said firmly.

He begrudgingly followed orders.

"You started your third year of school recently-"

"A month and a half ago, so not really but…"

"-I want a report on that." Mr. Kirschtein just talked over him, pretending as though he hadn't heard anything.

"School's fine, going to classes, dickhead professors, the usual." Jean shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Don't worry about it."

"Really? Because apparently you have a B- in Chemistry."

All faces were looking towards him, some looking apathetic and others looking empathetic. They all knew he was fucked, but basically only Erwin and Hanji cared.

"Yeah, it's one B. So what?" Usually, Jean just _acted_ like he was pissed off, when he really wasn't. Now he was actually started to get seriously pissed off. Then, it hit him. "Wait, how the fuck did you find out I had a B-?"

Mr. Kirschtein huffed and sat forward in his seat in an attempt to look taller. "Jean, I have my sources. You need to do better. This company needs the best of the best, not some average B- underachiever!"

"I'm trying my hardest!" He yelled, almost not believing what he was hearing. It was one fucking B out of all the straight A's he'd maintained since fucking elementary school. "One B is fine, anyway!"

"You are the future of this company, but right now I run it! I decide what is fine!" The sallow face of his father had turned an ugly, blotchy red color. "And I _don't _want you going out and getting shit-faced drunk at sketchy bars with those bad influences you call friends!"

Jean leaned back in his chair, holding his head in despair. "HOW DOES EVERYONE KNOW ABOUT THAT?!"

Looks were exchanged around the room. Shrugs were sent back and forth.

"You don't exactly cover it up well…" Erwin offered.

"Jesus fucking Christ…" Jean muttered, rubbing his temples that were now pounding just as badly as this morning.

"I'm just worried about you." Mr. Kirschtein stated, his voice containing the emotional range of a teaspoon. "I want a good future for you."

"Yeah fucking right. You're just worried about" Jean's voice deepened to mimic his dads gravelly one "'the future of the company'. Do you even care about my mental health or anything else other than your precious fucking company?!"

Again he found every set of eyes on him. He'd stood up somewhere during that and could feel his legs shaking uncontrollably. His fists clenched and unclenched compulsively, looking at his father for a reply. He was met with a severe, disappointed expression, so he pushed back the chair and stormed out of the room. The only person he heard call after him was Erwin.

* * *

Jean let a couple days pass before he even went near Kirchstein Inc. again. Both him and his dad had to simmer down, and they both knew it took a long time for that to happen. So he decided lock himself into his apartment, only going out for food and classes.

Luckily, his roommate was also one of his best friends, so he knew enough to leave Jean alone to sulk. Occasionally he would play Call of Duty or something with the bald guy, but talk of Jean's mood was never mentioned.

His father could buy him his own fucking house, but he'd insisted on getting a roommate. Jean kinda liked the company. Connie kept him from doing self-destructive things like drinking until he blacked out or listening to late 2000's Miley Cyrus.

Plus, whose ass would he kick at every single video game he owned.

"GOD DAMN LIGHTENING BOLT!" Connie screeched as Jean sped passed him on Mario Kart. They had decided to take a break from the intensity of Call of Duty, but he wasn't sure this was any better.

"Sucker!" Jean cackled evilly as he drove right through the finish line. He pumped his controller in the air. "Get on my level baldy!"

Connie weeped theatrically. "I even picked Luigi this time…The year of Luigi is a lie! A LIE I TELL YOU!" He shouted, throwing his controller away for dramatic effect.

Jean laughed, watching as his friend hung his head. His eyes shifted to the box under the TV where the time glowed bright green. "Dude, don't you have to go to class? I thought your night class was on Tuesdays?"

Connie's head immediately snapped up, eyes widening. "It's Tuesday?! Shit!" He jumped over the couch, high tailing it to his room. A second alter he emerged with a book bag slung over his shoulder. "Thanks, bye!"

And he was out the door…Still in his pajamas. Jean shook his head in exasperation, dumbfounded that he was the responsible one between the two of them.

Now that Connie was gone, there was no point in continuing to play Mario Kart; it just wasn't the same with one person. Jean sighed, looking over at the book bag he'd thrown in the corner.

He had to study. There was a huge Chemistry test this week and he couldn't fail it. Jean rolled his eyes as his father's words played over in his head.

He sighed again, but dragged the book back over to the kitchen table and began studying nonetheless. It was something to keep his mind off shit, anyway. Like how he never wanted to be a business major, with a science minor. And yet here he was, taking Chemistry and Economics and shit like that. Who the fuck even likes those things? Not him, that's for sure.

Jean attempted to study up on whatever dumb stuff his professor had droned on about for the last chapter, but he just ended up spelling "THIS IS SHITE" with the elements on the periodic table. Yes, the E on the end was necessary. Fuck tellurium, why couldn't your symbol just be T?

The longer he stared at all the numbers and letter and formulas, the more his head started to pound. A tight, painful feeling developed in his throat and spread to constrict his chest. He could feel himself sweating uncomfortably as the chemical formula symbols whirled around in his head.

Thorium Iodine Silicon double Sulphur Hydrogen Iodine Tellurium

Jean lowered his head to rest on the surprisingly comfortable text book. How was he gonna do this? He didn't like science. He didn't like business. How was he going to get all A's in school like this?

He let out a pathetic groan, which was quickly covered up by the sound of excited yelling.

"Are you readay to partay!?" Connie yelled, throwing the door wide open so that it banged against the wall and probably made a huge dent.

The bald guy was back, leading a tall brunette girl behind him. Jean sighed. Sasha was here and he had just gone to the store to get food today. He had been hoping to make it last a while, too.

"How's it going, buddy?" Sasha squeezed onto the chair beside him, taking up as much room as she could. "Ohh, chemistry that sounds hella boring."

Connie squeezed onto the other side of the chair. "Right? I told him to switch minors but he won't have any of it."

"Ok guys, this chair is only made for one." Jean pointed out, slipping some grumpiness into his voice so that they'll get the message to back off.

They apparently didn't it get it, because Sasha proceeded to take out a potato chip bag from her purse and snack loudly.

"Guys I have to fart." Connie suddenly said, voice sounding weirdly strange.

"Ooookay." Jean immediately stood up and extracted himself from between them. "Keep it in, baldy."

He saw a panicked look pass between the two. Deciding to ignore it, he walked towards the couch. He stopped when something hit his back.

Sasha's hand was wrapped around him, steering him to the couch.

"Listen Jean, we need to talk about your problems." Her voice had adapted a pseudo serious tone. They sat down on the couch close together, with Connie going on the other side of Jean.

"Problems? What the fuck are you talking about?" He glared at Sasha, warning her that continuing to do this would not end well.

"Well, your father and I are very worried." She nodded at Connie, who was apparently the father in this situation.

"Yes, we're worried that you're becoming a huge fucking weenie." Connie said this with a straight face. "Also you fucking hate business and science so why the fuck are you studying them?"

They were way too close for him to breath. He was starting to feel like the room was tiny and and hot. The two continued to count off all the ridiculous things they were 'concerned' about.

This was too much for him. The headache he'd already had was 100x's worse by now. It almost brought tears to his eyes, so he decided to rip his jacket off a nearby chair and walk out the door. He heard the smack of two hands slapping together as he left, and he kinda wondered what the fuck they were high-fiving about.

He sulked out into the city of Trost, not even sure where he was going. It was a busy night with many people clogging the sidewalks, so Jean allowed himself to look as grumpy as possible. His look read 'Don't even try talking to me', and that's just how he liked it.

He wandered for a bit, thinking bad things about his two friends all the while. It was only after he noticed what part of town he was in that he took out his phone.

The phone rang and rang, eventually going through to voicemail. "Hey, you've reached the voicemail of the one and only fabulous Reiner. I don't have time to listen to your shit right now, so call back maybe."

Jean rolled his eyes as the phone beeped. "Reiner I'm coming over to hang at your place. Thanks. Bye."

He slid the phone back in his pocket and sped up. He would've opted to go to his dad's place, but it had only been two, almost three, days since their fight and that wasn't nearly enough time to pretend it didn't happen.

Deciding to be a regular human being and use the front entrance this time, Jean punched in the passcode number to open the doors. He'd made a point of remembering it just for occasions like this. Let's just say Jean needed to 'get away' a lot.

As he ran up the stairs (the elevator scared the fuck out of him after that one time he got stuck in it) Marco suddenly flashed into his mind. _'I'll be seeing you again, right?' _The words swam around in his aching head. Maybe he'd see the freckled man again today?

Jean stopped on the 6th level of stairs and opened the door to the shitty apartment hallway. The whole building looked like it hadn't been changed since the 1970's, but he usually tried to ignore the clashing bright orange and green. He stared a bit too long at Marco's door as he passed, resisting the urge to knock loudly on it.

"Reiner!" He yelled, jamming the buzzer with his finger violently. "Open up!" No answer came. Jean sighed, holding the buzzer down for an obnoxious amount of time.

He began to worry. This was not the time for Reiner to be gone. He need someplace to chill and forget about everything. The presence of Marco's door suddenly became too huge to ignore. His eyes darted over to it, contemplating whether or not he should do it.

Jean had already forced his company on the guy once. This would be beyond rude. He walked over to it, staring intensely. Marco would probably let him stay there for a bit, but would he actually be comfortable with it? No, no, no, he definitely was not going to do this. He shuffled back to Reiner's door, banging his head against the cheap wood. What was he going to do?

A loud _ding_ down the hallway made him jump. Crap, someone was going to catch him looking like a fucking creep. He took out his phone, hurriedly dialing Reiner's number in an attempt to look normal.

Foot steps approached, but he dared not look. Dammit.

And then- "Jean?" A kind, familiar voice interrupted him. _Thank fucking god. _He immediately stopped the phone call and whirled around to see Marco standing in the dim light of the hallway. The guy was clad in a white dress shirt, blue tie loosely hanging around his neck and black slacks. He looked hella good.

"Oh hey, uh, fancy seeing you here." Jean waved awkwardly. "Ya know, outside your apartment and all." _Fuck._

Marco just chuckled, bringing up a hand to hide his mouth. "Are you waiting for Reiner or something?"

"Yeah. I needed to get out of the house, so I came here…" He brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck. "But Reiner's away."

"Oh, well you can hang out at my place until he gets back if you'd like." He offered, looking completely sincere.

"Well, I dunno." Jean said, rubbing the back of his neck even harder and looking down at the ground. "Are you really okay with that?"

"Yeah, sure! I could use some company for late night dinner!" Marco walked passed Jean, unlocking the door and opening it for him. "C'mon."

Jean couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "Thanks, man." He entered the dark room, his eyes adjusting until Marco flipped on the lights.

When he was drunk and hungover, the place had looked slightly different. It was a decent apartment, but the 70's color and appliances were overpowering. The 70's were a weird time.

"So why are we having 'late night dinner'?" Jean asked, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table. It was small and only fit two people.

"Because I didn't get a break today at work." He heard slight irritation in Marco's voice. "Again. You cool with hot pockets?"

"Hell yeah." Jean furrowed his eyebrows. "They don't give you a fucking break? Where do you work?"

"At night, I work at that one Italian restaurant down the street." Marco shrugged. "I sometimes get breaks, but when it's busy or when someone calls out…I'm shit outta luck, as they say."

He frowned. "That's not fucking fair." But it explained the fancy garb.

Marco shrugged. "It pays the rent." He sidled a glance over at Jean. "What's up with you? Why the need to 'get out of the house'?"

Jean told him everything about studying and his two friends, marveling at how easy it was to talk to this person he just met. Marco laughed at the antics of Connie and Sasha, saying that they sounded like interesting people.

Jean and Marco ate hot pockets together as Jean told his new friend about life at Trost Uni. He decided on leaving out the details of his father and Kirchstein Inc. The whole thing man him feel self-conscious and different. For good reason though, Marco's life was as different from Jean's as day and night. The guy had two jobs, the other one being at some really pretentious coffee shop across the street and apparently wasn't in school despite only being a year older. Jean didn't ask why in fear of prying, but admitting it didn't seem to bother Marco.

He also only had a TV in the cramped apartment, with no video game consoles in sight. When Jean inquired about it, Marco admitted he only had a few movies on DVD and board games for entertainment.

And that was how Jean ended up playing fucking Candy Land at some guys house at 11 pm.

"FUCKING MOLASSES SWAMP!" Jean yelled, burying his head in his hands in defeat. "Every fucking time!"

Marco looked like Christmas had come early. "That's like the third time in a row. I may actually win this time."

"Don't count on it, Freckles." Jean smiled at Marco as he picked another card from the pile. He was then distracted by a vibration in his pocket. "Hold on a sec…"

Jean pulled out his phone, briefly looking at the picture of Reiner on the screen before pressing accept. "Hey, man. What's up?"

"I got your voicemail, but you're not at my apartment? Should I be worried?" Reiner asked, sounding slightly concerned.

"Nah, I'm next door with Marco again." Jean answered, looking up at the aforementioned guy. He was staring at Jean as he talked, which kinda made him feel self-conscious.

"Oh. I see. With your new BFFL."

He rolled his eyes, hoping Marco couldn't hear it. Damn Reiner and his booming voice.

"Whatever. We're a couple people short of playing Lord of the Rings Monopoly, you and Bertl in?" Jean looked at Marco for approval and he shot a thumbs up to him. He really just wanted to be Gandalf, honestly.

There was a long silence. And then, "I don't think I'm drunk enough for that."

"Dude, way to be a party pooper. Go watch your dumb TV shows like a loser."

"Ouch, Jean. That hurts." Reiner said emotionlessly. "Theresa Caputo is hurt by extension, and she'll never give you a reading."

"I'm broken inside. Bye."

Reiner laughed. "See ya." And he hung up.

Jean placed the phone on the table. "Sorry, no Middle Earth bidding wars tonight."

"Darn, I thought I was gonna get the chance to break that bad boy out too." Marco looked a hopeful. "Maybe one day…"

"Definitely, I'll force Connie and Sasha over here so they can meet you." They were already to the point of alluding to future plans together. It felt weird how he didn't know this guy a week ago, but now he was falling into Jean's life and fitting there like a puzzle piece.

He looked up at Marco, noticing the dark bags of skin under his large, brown eyes. Marco looked beat, which was probably due to the two jobs. A sudden, overwhelming feeling of guilt overcame him.

Suddenly, they were staring at each other and Jean couldn't look away.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" Marco asked, looking a little surprised.

Jean cocked an eyebrow. "You mean besides all the freckles?"

He barked out a laugh, an embarrassed blush covering his cheeks. "Well, yeah."

Shrugging, Jean let his eyes drop to the table. "Just looks like you need some sleep, man. You can tell me to go home, ya know?"

Marco sighed. "Yeah, but I almost never have fun like this. So it's worth it."

Jean's eyes glanced back up. This was fun to him? Hanging out with him was 'worth it'? Shit, even Connie never admitted stuff like that. He couldn't help the embarrassed smile that crept onto his face.

"You need some sleep. You're looking sick." The last thing he wanted was for Marco to be tired for the next mornings shift because of him.

Marco reached across the table and punched his arm playfully. "Aw, look who's worrying about me! I'm swooning." He dramatically put his hand to his forehead.

"Oi, fuck you!" Jean hid his face in embarrassment. "Here I am trying to be nice, and this is what I get!" He crossed his arms and pouted like an angry child.

Marco was laughing loudly, white teeth glinting in the kitchen light. He calmed down, wiping his eyes of tears. "Okay, okay. Thank you. I think I'll take your advice and hit the hay."

Jean nodded, a bittersweet feeling settling in his heart. Now he had to leave Marco for his own apartment. He just really hoped that Connie and Sasha were done being idiots by now.

Marco got up, grabbing Jean's long discarded plate. He set them both in the sink and began cleaning. While he was looking away, Jean grabbed the Candy Land instructions and reached for a pen on Marco's counter.

By the time the freckled guy was done cleaning, the Candy Land instructions were flipped upside down on the table and Jean was leaning against the kitchen counter by the door.

"I'll get out of your hair for the night this time." He smirked at Marco, who laughed. "Text me, alright?"

"Will do. See ya." Marco waved.

Jean waved back and was out the door before his new friend could realize.

* * *

_**From: Unknown Number**_

_**Putting your digits on the back of the instructions for Candy Land? So smooth**_

Jean laughed harder than he meant to when he first opened the new text. He was back at his apartment, lounging on the couch. Theresa Caputo was channelling some spirits on the screen in front of him.

He saved the number in his phone, naming it 'Freckled One'.

_**To: Freckled One**_

_** ;)**_


	3. Benefits of Alcohol

**Okay, I'm am SUPER sorry about how late this is. I had a bunch of shit going on like end of school, graduation, sisters wedding shower, WORK, blah blah blah normal excuses then I had to change this chapter like a couple times( thanks writers block) Sorry if it seems badly paced or choppy cause i was having some trouble so i was like SEPARATE SCENES WITH A LINE THERE AND THERE AND THHHEEERE.**

**Just all in all, I'm sorry for this shit**

* * *

"Jean-bo, come here!" A warm comforting voice called to him.

Jean picked himself up, looking down at his small velcro sneakers and band-aid covered knees. The fact that he was magically seven years old again didn't occur to him as weird. He just took it in stride. A blank space surrounded him, which he inspected curiously.

"Jean-bo!" He whipped around towards the voice. The space transformed into his old room, the one with the race car bed in his family's old house. "I'm over here!"

A woman sat in an old wooden rocking chair, rocking back and forth as she gently held her bulging stomach.

She looked painfully familiar. Jean approached, noticing the warm amber eyes and round face. With a jolt, he realized it was his mother.

"Mommy!" Jean ran to her, trying to keep the tears out of his eyes. Why did it take him that long to recognize her? A deep sadness filled him. How could he forget?

His mother took him in her arms. "My wonderful Jean-bo! Everything will be alright."

"I know, mom…" He murmured into the soft fabric of her dress.

"It will be alright." She repeated. "I'll be back before you know it."

Jean's eyes shot open. He immediately lifted his head. "What do you mean?"

Before his eyes, his own mother was fading.

"I'll be back, just you wait..."

And he was falling through air.

"What the fuck." Jean paused the episode of Game of Thrones he was watching. "What the actual fuck? Are you fucking kidding me?"

He rubbed his bloodshot eyes, just to make sure he was seeing the horrific image right. The bloody crushed skull of one of his favorite characters was still flashing vibrant red on the screen, so he decided to shut his laptop and sulk instead of finishing the episode.

This is what he got for deciding to marathon season 4 after his sleep was rudely interrupted by a nightmare. But Jean knew he wouldn't have been able to go back to sleep after that. He used to get nightmares about his mother often, but now only once in a while was he tortured into staying awake for hours.

Dull sunlight filtered in through his window, illuminating most of his messy room. Jean supposed now was as good a time as any to get up. He rolled over and checked the time on his phone. It read 7:35 am in boring white numbers. The text underneath it is what got Jean's attention.

**From: Freckled One**

**Good morning! :)**

It was sent at 6 fucking am. If this guy thought he was a morning person, he had another thing coming.

**To: Freckled One**

**wtf marco why are u up so goddamn early?**

He had been texting Marco casually over the last week and a half. They hadn't really talking about hanging out or anything, mostly because Jean didn't want to seem too desperate. But fuck he really enjoyed hanging out with him. He'd only really done it once, but they got on so well that it left him wanting for more.

It's like that potential new friendship that you know could be so great. So great that Jean wanted to talk to him all the time. He wanted to know his dirty secrets, his whole backstory, fuck even his favorite color and simple shit like that. But he restrained himself.

Jean sighed and flung his phone onto the table, which proceeded to slide off and clunk onto the floor. God bless carpeting, or what he liked to call iPhone cushions.

He rolled out of bed, deciding to do something productive for once. Pulling on some random sweat pants and a t-shirt, he moved out into the kitchen. After a healthy breakfast of fruit and water, Jean went into his room and picked some sneakers off the floor. Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he put them on, finally feeling some energy rushing through him. Next he sat down for some stretches, picking up his abandoned phone in the process.

**From: Freckled One**

**Work, of course. People need their coffee! What are you doing up so early?**

Jean scoffed and reached for his foot, phone still in hand. He was surprised to find that he could still touch his toes. He stretched and cracked his back a little before he responded.

**To: Freckled One**

**coulnt sleep. might stop by for some coffee later. ill probs need it tbh**

Perfect. A good excuse to go talk to him in real life. Jean mentally applauded himself.

With his phone discarded in his pocket, he set out into the brisk morning air of Trost at a slow jog. Fall had hit the city suddenly and strongly. For the first five minutes, Jean was too cold with just a t-shirt. That didn't last long as his body warmed up and he began to move faster. He rushed passed other runners, brown leaves crunching underfoot. The trees that lines his path were blooming with beautiful colors. He tried not to concentrate too much as he ran in a certain path that he'd gone on many times before.

A good 20 minutes later, he raced up a grassy hill, having left the gray of the city far behind him. He had run so far that his legs felt weak and his lungs and heart worked overtime in order to keep him going. Collapsing in a heaving pile on top of a large tree stump, Jean spent a long time trying to catch his breath as sweat dripped off him and into the wood.

A calm slowly settled over him as he looked over the familiar grassy meadows, a calm that only comes with reminiscing of times long gone.

"I miss you…" He whispered, so low it was almost drowned by the wind.

**To: Freckled One**

**im stopping by B)**

Jean chuckled as he sent the text, slowly jogging down the sidewalk in the direction of Ral's cafe. He'd spent a good amount of time sitting on that grassy hill, just thinking. It was calming, therapeutic almost. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to make it through this day without alcohol.

A bell rang as he pushed the door open, the smell of coffee beans quickly attacking his nose. The shop was warm and cozy, the light yellow walls giving off a cheerful vibe. Decorating the walls were an assortment of odd paintings and photographs. None of them actually matched, but they were all similarly strange.

Jean shook his head, trying to break his sensory overload. Too much quirky too early in the morning.

"Hey, welcome to Ral's." A cute blond behind the counter said.

Jean approached, allowing a fake smile to appear on his face. "Thanks."

"What can I get you?" The guy- his name tag said Armin- asked.

"Water and a small black coffee." Jean decided, pulling his wallet out. He handed the blond a ten, trying to discreetly look into the back room for Marco. Nothing could be seen through the small window to his dismay. He looked back at Armin long enough to take his change and a water bottle and went to wait by the pickup counter.

Jean cracked open the water bottle and chugged most of it in a fit of near dehydration. He felt instant relief as the water made it's way down his throat. When he finally brought the water bottle back down, he realized he was being stared at. Standing in front of the back door was Marco, his mouth gaping open like he was in some kind of trance.

"You alright, man?" He called to Marco, a genuine smile creeping onto his lips.

The freckled guy jumped, a bright blush spreading across his face. "Yeah!" He laughed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly.

Jean shifted self consciously, trying to air out his sweaty t-shirt. The white fabric was sticking to his skin uncomfortably. Marco probably thought he was gross, but he was only slightly bothered by the idea. Guys worked out, he should be used to it.

Armin was inspecting the scene with confusion. "Here's the coffee…" He said, handing the small coffee to Jean, eyes flitting between the them.

"Hey, mind if I take my break now?" Marco asked the blond, heading towards Jean.

"Go ahead, it's super slow." Armin shrugged, but kept his eyes on them as Marco left the counter and followed Jean to the deserted back corner.

Jean sat down across from Marco, nodding his head to the wall nearest to them. "This is a…quaint place."

"It grows on you." He lovingly patted the yellow wall. "The horridly clashing colors become comforting after a while."

Jean cringed. "I don't know if I could get used to it…"

Marco shrugged and fixed Jean with an inquisitive look. "Why couldn't you sleep last night?" He asked a little too quickly, seeming like it had been seriously bothering him since their text conversation this morning. A look of gentle concern crossed his face, something that Jean wasn't used to seeing directed at him.

"Oh, uh. Stress and school and shit like that. Got to me." He lied, focusing on picking a certain spot at the wooden table. Saying 'I had a bad dream' not only sounded dumb and like he was five years old, but it would also make Marco ask questions. About stuff he really didn't want to talk about.

This caused Marco to look even more concerned. "You should relax more. Ya know, take a personal mental health day."

Jean laughed, perhaps a bit too loud at the suggestion. "My dad doesn't believe in those. He'd probably tell me off for being a stereotypical lazy millennial."

Marco rolled his eyes. "Ugh, I hate when old people complain about us."

"Right!? Like they're any better?" He shook his head, leaning back to take a sip of the still steaming hot coffee. "He won't see reason though."

The freckled guy across from him eyed him. "You didn't seem like the type of person to do exactly what his parents tell him."

Jean sighed. "I'm not. It's just sometimes…too much of a hassle." He'd never outright defied his father before. Sure he's done some things, but eventually he does whatever his dad wants. And knowing that, it seems useless to try and rebel sometimes.

A bell rang loudly, signally that someone entered the shop. It didn't even register to Jean, he was so focused on staring dumbly as Marco brushed his hand through his really soft looking hair.

Oh, Marco was saying something. Shit.

"…so what do you think?"

"Uh…"

"Yeah, I know I'm not the expert on relaxing and all, what with my two jobs and all. But you should try and take a day, right? It's okay if you don't want to…" Marco looked uncomfortable, like someone just rejected him.

Shit.

"No, no, no, I think it's a great idea, yeah…" Jean didn't even know what the idea was. Marco couldn't know that he wasn't listening.

"Cool! Then we'll have to wait for a day with nice whether or something. I heard there's gonna be a warm day next week." He seemed to have bounced back from his discomfort.

"Sounds like a plan!" What the fuck was the plan? Probably would've helped if he'd been fucking listening. Jean mentally kicked himself.

But it seemed like the crisis was averted for now, he'd just have to figure out the details later. Jean sipped at his coffee, feeling the caffeine rejuvenate him slowly.

A silence fell between them as Jean shifted uncomfortably. The silence isn't what made it weird though. Jean had a creepy feeling that someone was watching him. He flicked his eyes across the room, where they landed on someone who was unabashedly fucking staring at him. It wasn't even a normal stare; it was intense as fuck. The guy was about his age, blue-green eyes glaring at him from under messy brown hair. He was leaning against the counter, talking to Armin quietly while not breaking his gaze.

Jean was about to say something to Marco about this fucking freak, but at that moment a horde of teenage girls burst in through the door, giggling loudly.

"Ah shit, can't leave Armin alone in this." Marco sprung to his feet. "Sorry, Jean!" Before he could respond, the guy had raced to get behind the counter.

Jean watched as he cheerfully greeted each customer, momentarily distracted by the way he could be so fucking chipper this early…Then, he remembered. He scanned the shop, not seeing the brown haired stranger.

He elected to shrug the whole thing off, hoping he'd never see that person again. He chugged the rest of his coffee and dumped the container in the trash. Passing by the counter he eyed the horde of customers with disdain. It was times like these he was glad he didn't have an actual job. Jean raced out into the city, which had actually gotten a tad warmer,now that the sun was out. More cars sped down the street, stopping for the increasing number of pedestrians.

Jean jogged along, trying to get his body temperature up, when-

"Hey!"

He skidded to a halt. The stranger from the coffee shop was walking out of a nearby alley and planted right in the middle of the sidewalk.

So. Fucking. Creepy.

"What do you want?" Jean grumbled, mostly confused as to why this person was acting this way. Usually this kind of treatment would be after he did something incredibly rude. But he hadn't even done anything of that sort (yet).

A thought suddenly struck him. Wait, maybe this guy was from one of his particularly drunk nights out? He began to sweat a bit more.

The strangers eyebrows curved downward. A scowl that could rival Jean's twisted his face. "I want to know what business you have with Marco."

Jean almost laughed in relief, but surprise and annoyance stopped him. "Why do you want to know? You his bodyguard or something?"

The stranger didn't look amused in the least. "No, I'm his friend. But I am trying to protect him."

"Pretty sure the guy can protect himself." Marco was no twig, Jean had to admit. He had noticed a couple times that the guy was pretty damn muscular. But in a 'I'm admiring his commitment' way. Yeah.

"He can physically protect himself, of course." The guy spat out like Jean was the town fool. "Marco is the nicest guy I know, but he trusts any scumbag that talks to him."

He felt his temperature rise almost instantly at the words. "What the fuck are you insinuating?" This guy was seriously pissing him off. He didn't even know Jean, but he was already assuming things. Albeit, Connie did once say he had the 'douchebag asshole' look, but that didn't mean he actually was one. Besides that, this guys words, his voice, his fucking face pissed him right the fuck off.

"I'm just warning you!" The guy took a step closer, attempting to look intimidating. "If you fucking hurt him, I'll destroy you."

Jean mimicked his move, getting dangerously close to the other guy. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Eren!"

Both guys snapped their heads around at the sound of a woman's voice. A beautiful Asian woman was standing a couple feet away, fixing this 'Eren' loser with a vicious glare.

"Mikasa, I-"

The woman, Mikasa, shook her head the slightest bit, immediately cutting off whatever Eren was going to say. "You're not helping. C'mon, let's go."

With one last glare at Jean, the angry man approached his friend. "Sorry about that." The woman said, sounding completely indifferent.

Jean nodded and watched them walk back in the direction of the coffee shop. He scoffed, turning back towards his apartment.

"Fuck that guy…"

"Connie, don't put that in there, you're gonna kill us all!" Jean yelled, watching in fear as the bald guy almost poured ammonium into the wrong beaker.

Jean and his friend were surrounded by the smell of burning shit and college student BO. This could only mean his most dreaded class: Chemistry. Unfortunately, it had been a couple hours from when he visited Marco and the caffeine was wearing off.

Tired Jean was not a happy Jean. Tired Jean in the middle of Chemistry class was a downright nightmare.

Connie jumped and almost spilled it anyway. "Calm down man, I thought this class was gonna be all about experimenting."

"Not when we could FUCKING DIE." He rubbed a gloved hand down his face in exasperation. It was a good thing the professor was all the way across the room talking to other kids about some chemistry mumbo jumbo.

Connie put the chemicals down in resignation. "Whatever." He leaned back on his stool, watching as Jean actually did what they were supposed to do. "So how's it with your super perfect best friend forever?"

Jean rolled his eyes. "His name's Marco, and we're not that close."

"Really, cause you talk about him all the time."

"Do not."

"Do too."

Jean scoffed, measuring out liquids in their containers. He regretted ever telling Connie about his adventure this morning.

"Don't blame ya. Hot guys are a really good distraction from stress. Trust me, that's how Reiner and I met." Connie winked, flashing Jean a thumbs up.

He whipped his head around. "What the fuck? I don't want to know about your weird sexual conquests, especially with my friends. Gross."

The bald man shrugged. "It is what it is, I don't see the problem. Reiner and Bert are perfect together, and I've got Sasha and we're all friends. No awkwardness here."

"I still didn't need that mental image..." He shook his head, trying to chase away the gross image in his mind.

"Changing the subject completely from that, do you know a guy named Eren?" It was something he'd been meaning to ask. Maybe his friend could shed some light as to what the fuck happened this morning.

Connie furrowed his brows. "Eren? Hmm…No. Why?"

Jean shook his head as he scanned the details of their lab. "Just some weird guy Marco knows. He was a hostile, annoying little shit."

"You know, fighting his friends won't get you into his pants. It'll probably prevent you from it, actually." Connie dodged the gloved hand that shot out at him, laughing maniacally.

"That's not what I'm fucking after!" Jean scowled. "You know my dad would freak out if I ever went out with a guy."

"Pshh, you care too much about what he thinks."

He sighed as an uncomfortable feeling unfurled in his stomach, along with a tightness in his throat. He was very familiar with this feeling; every time he failed a test, every time he thought about his future, every fight with his dad. Stress and worry were no strangers to him and the truth of what Connie had said was unsettling to him.

Jean kept generally quiet for the rest of the class, only humoring Connie when it was necessary. He said and did just enough so that his friend wouldn't catch on to his change of mood, though his constant shaking leg probably gave him away. Erwin had mentioned after countless meetings with his dad that leg bouncing meant someone wanted to be somewhere else. Of course Erwin was full of shit sometimes, but it made sense.

Thirty painful minutes later, Jean and Connie made it back to their apartment.

"I'm gonna spend the night doing homework. See you tomorrow, Conman." He threw in Connie's old nickname to make everything seem normal and dissipate any weirdness.

Connie seemed to hesitate, but still let him go. Inside his room, Jean immediately went into his closet and opened a box labeled 'Childhood memories'.

Naturally, this is where he kept his emergency alcohol. He sighed, bringing out some hard cider. "Hello, old friend." Jean said, faking a dramatic tone even though he was the only one around to hear it.

He downed the first in one go, ignoring the painful feeling it left in his throat. The first was always the hardest, after all. They came easier after that and faster. Before he knew it, his head was fuzzy and incapable of thinking about all the problems he was avoiding. His stomach was a warm, pleasant pit of mainly just alcohol.

'You should relax more.' Marco's voice sounded in his mind.

"Maco…" He mumbled. He was lying on his bed, bottle of beer and hard cider surrounding him. Feeling around for his phone, he brought it up to his face.

"ACK!" Jean grumbled after hitting himself in the eye. "Fuck goddamn…"

**To: The Freckled One**

**mmaaaarcoooooo**

He waited.

**To: The Freckled One**

**hey, u kno ur friend an ashole?**

No answer.

"Fruck it…" He pressed the call button, smashing his phone into his head as he tried to bring it up to his ear.

Ring, ring, ring..

"The person you are attempting to call cannot be reached-"

The rest of the sentence was drown out by Jean. "Hell fucking damn it all to satan's pent house!"

A loud beep interrupted him and he huffed noisily into the device. "You give some shittyass advice budday…" And he hung up.

Now that that was out of his system, he could drift off into a deep sleep, one where thoughts of his mother and father and school would not bother him.


End file.
